


Novel Strategies in Stress Management

by Marrrrrrr



Category: Community
Genre: F/M, Season 2, Space Bus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrrrrrr/pseuds/Marrrrrrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff and Britta start having secret sex.  Semi-canonical with Studies of Resonant Bodies, my longer Troy/Britta fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Novel Strategies in Stress Management

**Author's Note:**

> Dan Harmon said on the season 2 DVD commentaries that Jeff and Britta started having sex during the Apollo 13 spoof. Here's my interpretation of how it happened. The second chapter's going to be Halloween.

Britta Perry looked around the interior of the space bus, inspecting the damage. The thing had seen much better days. Black soot covered most of the monitors. The fire had charred the leather backing of the captain’s chair. She ran a hand over it, felt how the heat had warped it, made it contort it’s shape, pulling and tearing at itself until it had bubbled over. It looked really beautiful, she thought. It’d make a good jacket

“What are you doing in here?” an aggressively toned voice asked.

Britta turned. Jeff was standing there, in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Like her, he was still wearing his white cleaning jump-suit.

“Just- exploring,” she said quickly, slipping the joint she’d planned on smoking in here for old time’s sake into her back pocket. “What are you doing here?” she countered. The rest of the group, and the crowd that had gathered to watch their triumphant homecoming, had wandered off a long time ago.

“Looking for you,” he said, taking a step inside. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together alone, since the beginning of the year. Actually pretty much none, really. They‘d always been watched. Always performing for some kind of audience.

There wasn’t anyone else here now, though. She tried to ignore the little fluttering in her chest that came with that realization.

“Oh?” she asked, hating the way her voice caught a little in her throat. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to let him effect her like this anymore.

“Yeah,” he said. Now that he was inside, out of the glare of the setting sun, she could see his face. He was frowning, angry. “Stop trying to bait me.”

“Bait you?” She frowned too.

“I thought we settled this already,” Jeff said, carefully, slowly, as if he’d spent a lot of time thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. “We were both angry, after what happened at that stupid dance. I get that. But I thought we worked that out. I thought we’d put that behind us for the good of the group. But then you do that little stunt with Troy today.”

“Wha-”

“Oh come on!” His words had become quicker, more heated. “You ‘accidentally’ fall into his lap? How romantic! And convenient.”

She felt heat flood into her face. “That was an accident you jag!” That was true. “And there wasn’t anything romantic about it!” That was a lie, and she knew it. She’d definitely felt something then. And judging by the fact that she’d also more literally felt something, twitching and stirring in his pants, so had Troy.

Jeff snorted.

“My god, you are the biggest hypocrite on the planet!” Britta shouted. “ _You made out with Annie, assface_! Did you think about that, before you decided to come in here and start calling me a slut?”

“I didn’t do it in front of you!” he shot back, his voice rising to match hers.

“Oh, right, you showed _so_ much discretion!” The distance between them had closed, somehow, and they stood inches away, glaring at each other. She could see Jeff’s jaw working.

“Stop. Baiting me.” he repeated.

This was no good. She couldn’t talk to him like this. They were at each other’s throats again, just like they’d had been when the sexual tension had been at it’s thickest, back at the end of last year.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jeff. Sometimes people just trip and fall without it being part of some master plan to piss you off,” she said, finally. “As much as it might flatter your narcissism to think so, you aren’t God.”

“Funny,” he said leaning over her, smirking that smirk that always annoyed her so much. She forgot how much he towered over her when she wasn‘t wearing heels. That was another stupid thing about him, how tall he was. “I remember you putting His and my name together a lot, back during that night in the study room.”

The memory of that night, the crescendo of sensation and emotion, flooded her mind. She felt her sex twitch, remembering the way he felt. The desperation of him as he mounted her. The look in his eyes as he’d climaxed, the brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability, so rare from him, that she’d seen there. It’d been the best sex she’d had in a while, charged as it had been by so much unresolved tension.

She also remembered how it’d dissolved that hostility that had been building between them, so thoroughly that she‘d almost had trouble remembering it had been there in the first place. That, and not anything else, she told herself, was the reason she did what she did next.

“Did I?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I find that hard to believe. Maybe you’d better refresh my memory.”

She saw his eyes widen as he processed that, his mouth open in surprise. The carefully constructed Winger façade only cracked for a split second, though, before he lunged at her. His arms were around her, grabbing her, lifting her up and crushing her to his chest as his greedy, hot lips found hers. She wound a hand into his gelled, douchey hair as her legs wrapped around his waist and she moaned, long and slow as his tongue flattened hers.

He staggered forward, carrying her over to the captain’s chair and dumping her unceremoniously into it.

“Hey!” she yelped. “Careful!”

“No talking,” he said, tearing her jumpsuit open and pushing it down her shoulders.

“Oh yeah,” she asked, kicking her shoes off as she glared up at him challengingly. “Why not?”

“Because I’m refreshing your memory,” he said, simply, as he unzipped her pants. “Pay attention. You know the two words I want to hear out of you.” His hand darted under her waistband, stroking at the lips of her cunt.

She cried out, bending forward and working her nails into the chair’s armrest. He teased her, gently working open her folds with shallow, even pressure that became deeper and stronger as she writhed with greater and greater intensity, until he was working two of them into her up to their knuckles while his thumb played with her clit and she was crying out, mewling like a cat in heat as her hands searched, desperately, for something to grasp onto to, to try and steady the rhythmic spasms of her body. She eventually settled on her hair, grabbing it in great fistfuls as she hissed his name, babbling nonsensically.

“What?” he asked, suddenly. He stopped, pulling his fingers out of her and wiping them on the side of his jumpsuit before he started to slowly, deliberately unclasp the buttons that secured the garment to his body. “What did you say?” He was smirking that smirk again.

“Jeff,” she repeated, hating him.

“I heard something else too…” he said in a sing song voice as he unzipped his jeans.

She closed her eyes, sucking air in through her nostrils, her heart still pounding. He just had to stop right before she was about to come, didn’t he? “God…” she said, between clenched teeth. She felt a tugging at her hips, felt her pants being pulled down her thighs. “Jeff. God. Maybe Jeff is God? Is that what you want to hear you narcissistic motherffFFFUUUUCCCKKK-”

Her eyes opened, bulging as he sunk his hard, jutting cock down into her pussy. The walls of her vagina clutched at him, stretching and shifting to accommodate his girth. She gasped at him, wordlessly, shifting her weight back into the chair, opening her legs as far as she could, leaning back as he penetrated her deeper and deeper until their pelvis’s touched.

“See, there you go,” he said, drawing out ever so slightly. “I knew you’d remember.” His hand caressed her swollen, pussy, rubbing at her stretched lips, his fingertips just teasing her exposed clit. “Was that so -errng-” he grunted as he sunk into her again “-hard?”

“You’re… a… huge… prick…” she breathed. He kissed her again, more tenderly this time, his lips softer and less demanding. His hips began to piston into her, the chair starting to squeak as it rocked back more and more violently. Jeff began to stroke her clit directly and she twitched in time to his rhythm.

"Well, then you're a sopping... wet... cunt..." he countered slamming into her with each word.

“Je…Jeffery!” she repeated, squealing this time, her toes arching, the muscles in her legs contracting as she came. She dug her nails into the forearm pressing into the chair next to her as she felt the lining of her cunt surge and swell molten hot around his thick, invading cock. Jeff grunted again, deeper, and Britta could feel the tendons in his arm tighten, could feel his cock erupt inside her.

Jeff staggered backwards, panting heavily and fell into the navigator’s chair. His prick, still glistening with the wetness of their fucking, deflated, sinking back down to rest against the inside of his leg. He looked smug. Smugger even more so than usual. Britta, still breathless herself, narrowed her eyes. She’d get him back for that.

#

He got less smug as the adrenaline began to wear off and the reality of what they’d just done began to sink in. She could tell, as he watched her wipe herself up with a moist towelette she’d retrieved from her purse, that he was uncomfortable.

“So…” he asked finally. “What was that?”

“Stress release,” she said, looking him in the eyes, daring him to tell her it was more than that. That there was something more between them than just that, that their… connection… wasn’t just reducible to hormones. He didn’t. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if he did. “You said it yourself: we don’t want to start messing up the group with our bickering again, right?”

“Yeah…” Jeff said, squinting.

“So… stress release,” she repeated. “We’re both adults. And we’re both too fucked up to get regular sexual partners the quote unquote ‘old fashioned way’, right?” He looked thoughtful. “Friends with benefits. Fuckbuddies. Whatever you want to call it, it’ll let us… compartmentalize a little. Keep our libidos nice and separate and well-exercised. But contained. Where they can‘t fuck things up.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah… that sounds… like it makes a lot of sense.”

“It’s not our fault nature gave you a dick and me a vagina and a bunch of dumb chemicals that made us want to rub them up against each other, right? So we do things this way and-”

“Britta,” he said. “You don’t need to convince me.” He stood, pulling his jumpsuit back on. “Obviously it’d have to be a secret.”

Britta rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” She balled the towelette up and stuck it back in it’s wrapper. Wriggling, she pulled her pants back on. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Speaking of, you should probably leave first. Just in case anyone’s… you know… around.”

Jeff nodded. “Okay.” He scratched his head. “Well this was… fun?” He winced. Then he was gone.

Sighing, Britta retrieved her discarded jumpsuit from the floor, reaching into the back pocket to retrieve her joint. Lighting it, she wondered how much trouble she’d just gotten herself into.


End file.
